Part 1: You Can Always Say Stop
by Zoe Mae
Summary: What happens when Grissom visited Lady Heather in 3x15? Grissom contemplates his relationship with women. Grissom/Lady Heather, GSR. This is going to be a two part story I’ve decided.
1. Words

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters, much to my dismay.

FEEDBACK: Any and all feedback welcome. (Thank you to all those who commented on my first pieces. So very much appreciated!!)

SUMMARY: What happens when Grissom visited Lady Heather in 3x15? Grissom contemplates his relationship with women. Grissom/Lady Heather, GSR. This is going to be a two part story I've decided.

AUTHORS' NOTES: References to Too Tough to Die, Scuba Doobie-Doo, Slaves of Las Vegas, Primum Non Nocere, The Accused in Entitled, Let the Seller Beware, Lady Heather's Box, Play with Fire

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Words**

_You told me to get a life, remember?_

_Did I?_

Grissom sat in his quiet townhouse, a glass a scotch in his hand, a number from his rolodex in the other. His eyes were blank, glossed over, as he stared at the wall. The past few weeks were churning in his mind, blurring all together in one long sequence of events. It was his own fault, he realized, but he never thought she'd actually listen. He gave advice to Sara all the time, to show he cared from a safe distance. And every time it was the same. He'd broach the subject timidly, cautiously, extending words of concern without blatantly exposing his true intent. And each time she'd glare at him, the defiance like fire in her brown eyes, letting him know the words weren't welcome. She never wanted to be controlled, and more so, not by a man who continually pulled her in only to push her away again.

One day during a case, he sat down with the intentions of encouraging Sara to find a hobby before she burned out from immersing herself in her job.

_You need something outside of law enforcement. You've got to find something to like._

Maybe she had set out to find something, he'll never know. She ended up finding someone, which was ultimately more difficult for him to deal with than he expected. And tonight all the words that had transpired since that moment throbbed in his mind like a headache he couldn't shake.

_I wish she'd mentioned her relationship with the EMT who moved the bra._

_Relationship?_

_A Hank Peddigrew. _

_We just interviewed him. He says he thanked her for letting him move the bra back._

_He was just, uh, being polite and, um, it's not a relationship. We go to movies…_

_Whatever happens in court, it's not because you're seeing this guy. You deserve to have a life._

_Uh, it's my day off. I was up in Pahrump at some vineyard_. _You told me to get a life, remember?_

_Did I?_

_It's just, um ... you tell me to get a life and then I get one, and then you expect me to be there at a moment's notice. It's… um…confusing._

Grissom knew what was happening now; he was trying to blame Sara for what he had most certainly caused. He had purposefully kept his distance from her, all the while pulling her in with innuendos and mixed messages, only to push her away again immediately after. Each and every time he did it, he knew he was hurting her, but every time he saw that look in her eyes he knew that his words could still affect her, that she still cared for him.

But then again, he didn't need the validation of pain to know that she cared for him in a way that went beyond friendship. Her hand lingering on his face as she wiped chalk away had kept him going many times when he could feel the stress of the job getting to him. Ninety-five, he had said to her. Ninety-five was when he knew he was really angry. And since that day, whenever his anger rose, it was the thought of her hand on his face that calmed him down. A simple gesture, but her eyes had been so kind, so beautiful, so full of adoration. He had been taken aback with how much one person could say with the touch of their hands, how much she had said in that single moment.

She had made light of it, as was her way. It was only chalk, the plaster from the crime scene. It was no big deal. She had shrugged, averted her eyes, gave him a small smile. Her actions tried to deny the intimate moment between them, but her eyes betrayed her. That touch betrayed her. And if she had stayed with him a minute longer, he might have betrayed himself.

So he continued to push her away, because in that moment he knew how much she cared, and she hadn't said a word. But every so often he'd bring her in again. Every so often his words would pull her in.

_Since when have you been interested in beauty?_

_Since I met you._

And then, just like that, the moment was over, he'd walk away, and continue to distance himself, leaving her confused in the wake of his statements. And so it went. Pull her in, push her away.

It was wrong for him to keep her tethered to him that way, but it was safer than getting too close. Since finding out about Hank, he tried once to send her off on a case alone, and she had been angry with him, as if she thought that he was trying to punish her for the advice that he had given her. So he had put her on every case with him after that just to keep her close. Always putting someone else on the case with them, he made sure that he was near her but hardly ever alone with her. He didn't know what would happen if they worked alone on a case together. So he didn't test it.

But even still, his words betrayed him, even when in the context of a crime scene.

_I need you._

_I have you._

Declarations hidden under the pretense of work, tucked away among words of suspects and evidence, DNA and lab results. In the moment the words flowed so casually, and only after did he realize what he was saying. If she picked up on it, she never let on, as if in some ways she was becoming immune to any sentiments Grissom had to offer. And at this point, he couldn't blame her. He only blamed himself.

At some point even that became too much for him, so he started assigning her to different cases. His hearing had gotten worse, and the whole situation seemed to be getting out of his control. Seeing Sara interested in a younger man made sense, something he wished she could have seen all along. If she directed her attention elsewhere, he wouldn't have to worry about the choices he had to make, or putting his career in jeopardy. He wouldn't have to worry about screwing it up, letting her down, doing something to destroy their delicate relationship.

But knowing she was interested in another man did nothing but cause more agony, and their relationship was on its way to being destroyed anyways.

Or was it? She wanted to have dinner with him. He refused. And just like that, the moment was over. She walked away to protect herself, leaving him confused this time. And so it went. Pull her in, push her away. Push her away even though you want like hell to pull her in.

Because then there was his health. He knew the hearing loss was hereditary. It didn't matter his age; it was going to happen eventually. Being diagnosed with otosclerosis before the age of fifty just made him feel older than he really was, which he already felt was much older than the woman he cared for. Grissom took another sip of scotch. This is for the best, he thought.

So if it was for the best, why did it still bother him so much?

_I wish I was like you, Grissom. I wish I didn't feel anything._

In that moment, staring blankly at his walls, he wished he didn't feel anything either.


	2. Invitation

**Chapter 2 – Invitation**

_And I know what you fear more than anything, Mr. Grissom._

_Which is?_

_Being known. You can't accept that I might know what you really desire, because that would mean that I know you. Something, for whatever reason, you spend your entire life making sure no one else does._

_Lady Heather, you're an anthropologist._

Another case involving murder brought him back to her dominion. The lifestyle itself had always fascinated him, but the woman who indulged in it as a profession seemed to fascinate him more. She was intuitive, far more so than a dominatrix should be, he thought. But he figured you had to be when dealing with people's secrets.

Her elegance was timeless, the way she spoke, ethereal. She had a way of inhabiting your soul, whether you wanted her to or not. Grissom was sure she had brought many men to their knees, both within these walls and outside of them. He was also sure that Leady Heather could no more work in another profession than he could have been anything other than a scientist. She seemed to embody everything sensual. It emanated from her in a way that was almost tangible.

And that is how Gil Grissom found himself between Lady Heather's satin sheets.

He arrived at her place of business, alone, with questions about suspects. He was there towards the end of his shift, so any time they spent afterwards would be on his own time. Grissom didn't feel the need to share that with her, only sharing his need for information. Information concerning the suspects, information concerning himself, he just needed information, and he needed it from her.

Grissom asked her questions, and Lady Heather was more than happy to comply. Soon he became more interested in the dynamics of the suspects' marriage. Lady Heather seemed to know quite a bit about the dynamics between two people. Her expertise was obviously in the submissive and dominant ways in which people interacted.

"Unfortunately, the language we speak in here doesn't necessarily translate to the world out there."

Her back towards Grissom, she struck a match to light a candle, giving a lustrous ambiance to their subtle conversation.

"No, in here, the submissive has the power. All he has to do is say the safety word and everything stops."

Lady Heather made no attempt to hide her approval. "Very good, Mr. Grissom." She blew out the match and turned around to face him. Rapt attention always drew her in. It was rare to find someone in her line of work that paid close attention to her. It always had to be the other way around to ensure the satisfaction of her customers.

Grissom awkwardly brushed off the compliment. True he had paid close attention to Lady Heather from the moment he met her, but he wasn't going to admit to it. She already knew too much about him, and in such little time, that he felt more guarded around her now than in their previous encounters. "I'm just repeating what I've heard."

Unfortunately for Grissom, it was his awkwardness that was so telling for her. The more he tried to hide, the more it exposed him to her. "You're a good listener."

Again Grissom just shrugged. Her comments were dangerous. "Part of the job."

Lady Heather knew that Grissom was trying to avoid any talk that threatened his private nature, but still she persisted. That was _her_ nature. "So this is work?"

Grissom straightened at the question. It was daytime, he worked the night shift, and it was clear that being here would extend past his business hours. But they _were_ discussing suspects, however. It _could _be considered work. "Yes." It wasn't entirely a lie. "But I value your insight."

Lady Heather offered Grissom a sultry smile. "I'm flattered. But you already seem to know the answers to your questions. You keep me in proximity when I walk away and when I'm close..." she edged closer, allowing only slight distance between them, "you watch my lips." She considered only briefly before speaking, knowing she already had the answer to her own question. "Are you losing your hearing?"

Grissom faltered, unable to relinquish the truth to her. Her ability to read him continued to catch him off guard; not even those close to him could read him so well. Those who worked with him every day hardly suspected there was a problem. Being so transparent to another person was disconcerting to him.

Maintaining full composure, he skirted the issue without lying, but without giving her the answer she requested. "I'm losing my balance."

Lady Heather looked at him inquisitively. "Your sense of self?"

If there was one thing Gil Grissom was sure of, no matter what he was faced with, it was his own identity. "No," he said softly, "I know who I am."

Lady Heather watched his eyes for a glimmer of uncertainty. She saw none, but persisted nonetheless. "Do you?"

Grissom allowed a small smile to adorn his features. "Yes, I do."

With that Grissom reached out and brushed the soft wisps of hair that threatened to mar her perfect features. Her eyes fluttered shut against her will to keep composed. Fighting her emotions, she forced herself to look at him, to continue to read the man in front of her. Grissom brought up his other hand, framing her face like a delicate picture.

He looked into Lady Heather's eyes, and saw so many emotions that he was sure she'd otherwise try to hide. For just a moment, it was as if she had forgotten her profession, her control, and allowed herself to be human, allowed herself to display her own wants in a place that required the opposite.

"You can always say stop."

"So can you."

For once Grissom wanted to get caught up in something he didn't have to think about. When he did allow himself to think, it always came back to one thing. And lately, he had a lot more on his mind that he wished he had not been privy to. He hadn't been able to shake it from his mind since.

_I wish she'd mentioned her relationship with the EMT. _

Sara's eyes flashed in his mind, her brown eyes filled with remorse. Her features had fallen, her heart at once exposed.

_He was just, uh, being polite and, um, it's not a relationship._

Accusations that Sara had tried to explain made her look all the more guilty. Maybe it wasn't as serious as his former mentor had made it out to be, but there was definitely something there. Sara's awkward reaction said as much.

And before him stood Lady Heather, with her crimson lips full and waiting, expecting nothing from him but what he was willing to give. In that moment there were no mixed messages, nothing to misunderstand, no innuendos. There were no repercussions, or an imbalance of power. Just her electric eyes and soft skin and an invitation to be taken.

Leaning in slowly, he let his breath caress her lips before he brushed them with his, a feather-light touch, testing the waters of her soul.

With his hands holding her face, Grissom took her.


	3. Surrogate

**Chapter 3 – Surrogate **

_You can always say stop._

Lady Heather parted her lips slightly, keeping very little distance between them, but enough to entice him to want to close the gap. She knew how to play a man's desire like a finely tuned instrument, but she didn't want to play with Grissom's; she wanted to submit to it. Feel it. Capture it within her. But it was going to be his decision.

_So can you._

Her mouth was warm and lush as he claimed it with his own in a slow, deep kiss. A woman of her worth made a man want to savor her, drink her in without letting a drop go to waste. Warmth spread through his senses, his blood rushing hot beneath his skin. With one hand twisted in her hair, he let the other hand graze down her arm to the small of her back, resting on the exposed skin between her corset and flowing skirt. With gentle fingertips he brought her in closer until he could fully feel the heat that was coming off her body in waves. He wanted, needed, to feel that heated skin against his own.

_I need you._

But Lady Heather was a professional, and she knew what he wanted the moment it entered his mind.

"Why don't we retreat to a place that offers more…privacy?" The words dripped from her mouth like honey and Grissom stole another taste in spite of himself. She backed up a few steps, keeping him captive with her eyes before revolving slowly to lead him to her chambers. Her intent was to keep him enthralled with her body as well as her soul, and as she drifted away from him, her long skirt swirling like smoke around her elegant form, Grissom caught himself wondering what secrets lie beneath. She moved like liquid, graceful and fluid, every motion poised and refined. What was she like, untamed?

When she stopped, a languid turn bringing her around to face him, he seized her once again in a searing kiss. Lady Heather fought between years of training and pure impulse, but since Grissom was not a paying customer, she allowed herself the freedom to let down her dominant guard. His jacket fell away to the floor and her hands moved to tug at the buttons of his shirt. When she released him from the confines of his shirt, she reveled in the feel of his skin, her hands treading softly up his arms to the curls at the nape of his neck. She backed up slightly to look at him and was suddenly puzzled by what flickered in his eyes.

"There's someone else you want, isn't there, Mr. Grissom?"

Lady Heather's voice, though soft and gentle, carried a faint timbre of accusation. Grissom was startled by her insight and wondered how it was that it became so obvious. He was here, attempting to make love to another woman, but Sara's name was resonating in his heart. And she had caught him. The fervor of trying to put Sara behind him was no match to how he actually felt. It was emblazoned on his heart, burning those who tried to fight past it. Not even the seduction of another woman, one so beautiful and alluring, could extinguish it.

_Since when have you been interested in beauty?_

_Since I met you._

Grissom only sighed and looked at her, the guilt in his eyes his only answer.

Lady Heather had seen all kinds come through the doors to her dominion, and was well aware of the look of longing, of yearning, of pain. She had gotten to know Grissom, so the empathy she now felt for him was genuine.

"Men come here all the time to play out fantasies of what they cannot have in real life. It's what makes this business thrive. We've all be substitutes for what the heart truly yearns for, whether it be pain or the escape from it."

"This may be true, Lady Heather, but I'm not here as a customer." With that, the sudden realization dawned that he was shirtless in the bedroom of a dominatrix. He might not be a paying customer, but he was no longer here on business. At least…not his business.

"But you are still seeking respite from the pain, whether you want to admit to it or not."

Grissom still chose to defend his stance, as if it mattered anymore why he was there. "I came to you to ask for help concerning the investigation."

"And this," Lady Heather pressed herself against Grissom, her lips once again teasingly close to his, "does this help with your investigation?"

Grissom inhaled slowly to keep the balance he admitted he was losing. "I suppose not."

"You came here for help concerning one matter, but somehow you chose to seek help on another. Let me help you, Mr. Grissom. Let me be the surrogate of the one you truly desire."

With thoughts of Sara pulsing through his veins, he surrendered. Like one who drinks to erase suffering, Grissom imbibed of Lady Heather, savoring the taste of her lips, indulging in the silkiness of her porcelain skin, in the warmth inside her. A warm body was so much more a consolation than alcohol, and being wanted, even for a moment, was better than the emptiness he felt at the bottom of a glass.

Lady Heather's breath was warm against his ear as he kissed the delicate arch of her neck. Her russet tresses splayed out against the pillow as he moved his way down her body, she arched to give him full access to her soft, supple skin. As he skimmed across sensitive areas, she ran her fingers through his thick curls that were now damp with sweat. Her own body glistened as they moved together, urgent and wanting, searching for belonging. He moved back up to capture her mouth, breathing erratic, lips tangling with salt and passion. Their voices mingled in a heated melody, ending in shuddering gasps.

Lying in his arms in the wake of their passionate encounter, Lady Heather rested. She allowed herself to feel in ways that were forbidden to her profession; she felt almost prosaic, as one might feel cuddled in the arms of a lover. But she knew that Gil Grissom would never be more than a man confused by his love for another woman. So she cherished that moment as long as she could, closing her eyes to keep the moment in her mind's eye.

Grissom held Lady Heather, absentmindedly running his hand up and down the soft curve of her back. Would the curve of Sara's back feel so soft? Would she be as warm, as welcoming? In a moment that he thought would make him feel better, he realized that it had made him feel worse. He had used Lady Heather to try to cleanse himself of his anguish at a situation he felt he created. True Lady Heather had volunteered herself, but he could have declined. He closed his eyes to purge his mind of images of the sweet brunette who haunted his thoughts.

They fell asleep like this, dreaming of distant desires.


	4. Broken

**Chapter 4 – Broken**

_You will control her only as well as you can read her. Now read._

"I'm already there. I'll wait."

Lady Heather looked up at Grissom, her eyes dark with confusion. He may as well have been Steven McCormick, striking Chloe Samms across the face. But Grissom did not read her correctly. He did not read her at all. The words of betrayal felt like a dagger. But the worst feeling was that she didn't expect this. Not from Grissom. The fact that she had trusted him made it all the more cutting.

"I think I just heard you say "stop.""

Grissom looked at her. Sabotaging everything seemed to be what he excelled at as of late. He never meant to hurt her; he was thinking of the case. As usual, his devotion to his job cost him something valuable.

"Lady Heather, I'm sorry…"

"All you had to do was ask me. I would have offered you whatever you wanted. Why have you always been so quick to accuse me?"

"The victim's cause of death was insulin shock. You are in possession of insulin. I'm just following the evidence."

"How quickly you are to hide behind the needs of your profession. Maybe someday you won't need to use what you do as excuse. You have let what you do for a living dictate what you do with your life." She rose from where she was sitting, making her way to the door.

Her accuracy this time did not surprise him. "Lady Heather…"

"I'll be upstairs. When the officer arrives, he may come and collect my kit." She gave Grissom one last look, a look that could have frozen his soul on the spot. She saw the look of remorse in his eyes, but she didn't care. What was done was done. That was the beauty of her profession; she never got close enough to be hurt by an indiscretion. She blamed herself for getting much too close this time.

Grissom conceded that whatever they shared last night now lay shattered and broken in the space between them. He resolved to the fact that this is why he needed to keep his distance from Sara; he had the power to break anything he touched. He would keep Sara at arm's length before he broke her. It wasn't worth the pain he would inevitably cause.

* * *

"Would you like to have dinner with me?"

The question caught him off-guard. What about Hank, the man who drove him into the arms of Lady Heather in the first place? Was this some kind of game to her?

And then there was the question, so innocently asked of him. Dinner meant time alone. Alone meant they'd have to talk. Talking meant he'd have to hear her. And Grissom had been having trouble hearing.

"No." The word came out more patronizing than he had meant it. Thoughts of Hank and his hearing clouded his judgment. But maybe it was better this way. Maybe she would just walk away. He would hurt her with distance now before he'd hurt her more later on.

His blunt answer did nothing to deter her. "Why not? Let's ... let's have dinner. Let's see what happens." Her optimism should have comforted him, but instead it just made him more uneasy.

"Sara ..." Grissom paused, shifting his jaw. His awkwardness was clear, and one of the only times Sara ever saw him clearly at a loss for what to do or say. The words were there, but he didn't know what to say, how to say it, how to say what he wanted and needed and was thinking all at the same time. "I don't know what to do about this," he said, making motions indicating the two of them.

Sara narrowed her eyes, and if she didn't look so defeated, her eyes were almost seductive. "I do."

Grissom tilted his head, almost curious at Sara's straightforwardness. She looked at him for a moment before she continued speaking.

"You know, by the time you figure it out, you really could be too late."

She didn't wait for a reply as she turned around and walked away, leaving him completely speechless to watch her disappear from him. He waited, stunned, enveloped in the silence that now lingered there in her absence. Only moments before, she was there, so close that he could take in the scent of her. She offered him a chance, and he couldn't take it.

But why now? What prompted the dinner invitation? Did seeing her life flash before her eyes as fire and glass surrounded her force her hand? She had put herself in harm's way earlier that day, was she just feeling invincible after sidestepping disaster?

He lingered in the door way for a moment before shutting off the light. Heading to his car, he ran through the last hour or so. None of this made sense to him anymore. One minute she was vehemently denying a relationship with Hank, the next she was asking him to dinner.

And then there was the issue with Lady Heather. He had gotten entangled with a dominatrix only to burn that bridge as well. It just cemented the fact that maybe he was destined to be alone for this very reason. At work, the evidence was only just evidence. It didn't confuse, or lie, or mislead, or evoke feelings. He was better suited to devote his time to evidence; all it required was to be processed. And that was one thing he couldn't hurt.

Grissom arrived home to his empty townhouse with thoughts of scotch his only consolation. True, a warm body was so much more a consolation than alcohol. But the bottom of a glass could do nothing to destroy relationships; he did that well enough on his own.

_Uh, it's my day off. I was up in Pahrump at some vineyard_. _You told me to get a life, remember?_

_Did I?_

_You're on your own._

_On my own?_

_Solo._

_See you around._

_It's just, um ... you tell me to get a life and then I get one, and then you expect me to be there at a moment's notice. It's… um…confusing._

_But I'm afraid I'll need a warrant._

_I think I just heard you say "stop."_

_I owe you an apology._

_Apologies are just words._

_I don't know what to do about this._

_I do._

_You know, by the time you figure it out, you really could be too late._

And so there Grissom sat, a glass a scotch in his hand, his eyes blank as he stared at the wall. The number that he pulled from his rolodex lay forgotten nearby.

After a few minutes he picked it up, studying it with faint attention.

_DR. KAREN ROTH, ENT_

_SUNDOWN MEDICAL GROUP_

_9548 DESERT WAY_

_LAS VEGAS, NV 89108  
(702) 555-0127_

He was headed on the path of losing Sara. He had already lost Lady Heather. And if he didn't act quickly, he would lose his hearing as well. Without his hearing, he wouldn't have his job. In such a short time he was at a risk of losing so many things. All he had to do now was get his hearing fixed. Then he could keep the job he held so dear, and possibly find a way back to Sara without the obstacle of his health in the way. If he played his cards right, he had so much more to gain.

"Hello, Dr. Roth? This is Gil Grissom. I'd like to schedule surgery for the otosclerosis…"

To Be Continued…


End file.
